Cherry
by Expert Shinobi
Summary: "I think being a hostess is kind of like being a drunk." "Oh yeah?" "You always tell yourself the first time will be the last time - that it really doesn't make you feel that good. But somewhere along the line, you get hooked. Instead of looking in the mirror, you're looking at mistakes." A story of a fall from grace and a man she never wanted to save her. AU [Gaara x Sakura]
1. Water Trade

**Title:** Cherry

 **Chapter 1:** Water Trade

AN: ...don't kill me. -_-;;

* * *

 _I remember back when I was pure._

 _Slim white legs. Dark blue knee socks._

 _Unaware of the price tag on every inch of this pale_ _s_ _kin._

 _In those days, I felt I could do anything._

* * *

To Sakura, there was nothing creepier than Ginza in the daytime. The offensive brightness – the snooty, picturesque families and young girls looking for their newest big spend. It was the night, with its glittering street signs and coquettish pull that she found far more attractive. In her heyday, Sakura used to be able to join in the lavish show of consumerism without a second thought. Gucci sunglasses, Prada pumps, expensive cakes and macaroons... Now, she was lucky if she could scrimp together enough change to afford a cappuccino at Doutor.

It was funny how it all could come and go so quickly. The way the fucking carousel kept turning, even when you were forced to stand by on the sidelines. At 26, Sakura lived more like a careless college student than a real adult. If anyone from high school saw her current 4 tatami apartment and grungy attire, she was sure they'd be stunned. Or more like revolted. But like everything else depressing in her life, Sakura was quick to push it to the back of her mind.

As usual, that Saturday Chuo Dori Street was closed to traffic, and Sakura had plenty of space to fan her wet nails as she shuffled down the road. She'd done them herself with a cheap drugstore polish, but found that if you looked just right, they shone almost as convincingly as the real thing.

But the moment Sakura caught sight of a tower clock on one of the high rises nearby, she stopped her lazy walk.

 _3:37!_

She was late again. After nodding off on the train and missing her stop, Sakura knew she had no real chance of making it to the club on time, but still picked up her pace, bobbing and weaving through prettily dressed clumps of shoppers and tourists.

It all went to the dogs however, as soon as she collided with what felt like a brick wall. The warmth told her it was something strictly human, however, and thoroughly embarrassed, she tried to push on.

"Are you kidding me? "A deep voice groaned, but Sakura was afraid to look back. She planned to bolt off like nothing had happened, but as if reading her mind, a pair of strong arms grabbed her wrists, yanking her back around.

"Shit!" Sakura cried out the moment her body collided yet again with something solid.

"I'm sorry!" She defaulted to a low bow, but the man grabbed her shoulder with both hands, forcing her to look up at him.

For a second, she felt flushed. Sakura had never seen anyone so rough looking on the Ginza high street before. It was usually polished men and women during the daytime, and his dark red hair and shaved brows were stunningly unusual. Even his sharp blue-green eyes, thickly rimmed by what looked like eyeshadow, proved a strange sight.

His gaze was angry at first, but the moment their eyes met, softened slightly.

"You should watch where you're going," He mumbled, but Sakura noticed the twinkle of curiosity when he caught sight of her pink locks. These days, most people frowned or shook cut their eyes disapprovingly of the dark roots and cotton candy strands. She squirmed, and he cursed to himself before she could apologize again.

Sakura followed his gaze to their feet and caught sight of a rather mangled looking cake box on the concrete. Pale yellow buttercream oozed from its smashed sides and pressed into the gravel.

"I'm so, so…" Sakura covered her mouth with both hands, trying her best to look flushed and innocent.

"I'll pay for it!" She cried, but knew instantly it probably wasn't even an option. The cake looked more than a little fussy, and no doubt if it came from any of the local bakeries, the cost would be more like half a rent payment rather than the measly couple of yen she had in her wallet.

The redhead took a long look over rumpled attire for a moment before sighing. Sakura's large, pale yellow dress was more tent-like than the boho-style she'd been aiming for, and there were a few greasy bolognaise stains near the collar. She knew she didn't exactly look a treat, but the open dismissal annoyed her.

"No…" He passed a hand through his hair, pushing the sweat-dampened strands off his forehead. It was then Sakura spotted what looked like a red ink tattoo.

 _'Love,'_ the kanji read, but she couldn't help but think that he didn't look particularly loving.

"There's no need," he gave the cake a dark look. "It's my sister's fault to begin with."

Sakura didn't understand, but didn't care enough to ask. Panicked, she glanced up at the tower clock and saw that it was rapidly approaching four. She was already 25 minutes late for her shift.

"I…I have to go." She started to back away, still bowing, but the redhead gave an annoyed grunt.

"If I think deeply about it, I realize this is probably your MO, right? Smash and grabs?" He crouched to pick up the box. "I guess I should check for my wallet now, right?"

Sakura squinted at him, a vein beginning to bulge near her hairline. It stunned her the way he was able to deliver each insult so calmly, as if totally bored. Typically, Sakura tried to restrain her temper with strangers, but the redhead was pushing his luck.

"What did you just say?"

"Nothing," he muttered, but then added lowly as an aside, "Fucking street tramps."

Sakura saw red. Without thinking, she drew her fist back and socked right him across the face. From his crouched position, the redhead hit the ground easily, and Sakura's eyes went wide in shock of what she'd done. She shook out her fist and as fast as humanly possible, bolted down one of the side streets.

"Hey!" She heard him shout, but it was too late and she'd already made a beeline for the red light district. Sakura breathed a sigh of relief when she reached the hostess club with no redhead or police in tow.

"You're late!" Tsunade scolded Sakura as soon as she huffed and puffed in through the front door.

"Like five or ten minutes." Sakura lied, gasping for breath. She put out a hand to brace herself on the bar, but then quickly withdrew it as soon as the blonde's stern gaze drop to her fingernails and the smudged polish there.

' _That asshole,'_ Sakura clenched her fist, but the thought of her bright purple polish punch-stamped into the redhead's pale cheek made her smirk.

"Nice manicure," Tsunade said snidely.

Sakura frowned to herself. Of course the woman wasn't stupid. She'd been in the hosting business for nearly 20 years and smudged or not, could certainly tell a home manicure from a paid one.

"Did you even make an effort to go to the salon?" She stared hard at Sakura's frizzy pink hair and no doubt the dark roots beginning to peek out.

"I didn't want to be late," Sakura lied and reached around the bar top for a can of diet coke. Her fingertips had just barely brushed the cool edge before Tsunade scowled and smacked her hand away.

"But you _are._ Jesus Sakura, all the other girls leave home early to fix themselves up, but you can't be bothered?"

Sakura fingered her limp hair and gave an idle shrug. She hadn't gotten it done in ages, but a professional cut and color was a luxury she could no longer afford. "I'm not even at the front anymore. Why does it matter?"

"You're not at the front anymore because you don't _want_ to be. You're constantly pulling this shit, and frankly, I don't know why I still keep you on!" Tsunade snapped, but Sakura paid it no mind.

She was used to the sniping commentary, and knew it was meant to be more of a pep talk than anything. Tsunade often had a blind spot for most things Sakura did carelessly.

But the busty blonde was right, of course. There was a time when Sakura loved being one of the club's top ranked girls. There was a thrill in strutting in late every afternoon, dressed to kill, and knowing that in a matter of hours, the businessmen and the stars – the sports players and the trust fund babies would flood in and be falling all over themselves for just a moment of her time.

But things had changed. She wasn't 19 anymore, and though her body hadn't changed dramatically, everything else had freely taken a nosedive.

"Tadaiiimaaaa!" A sweet voice called in from the entrance, and Sakura smiled to herself.

"Okaeri, Nezumi-chan!" She called back, rooting through her bag for cigarettes.

"Damn it, Sakura-chan I told you to stop calling me that!" Matsuri finally popped her head through the curtained doorway with a pout.

The 19 year old was in top form, as usual. Today, her long brown hair had been styled into a youthful topknot and her pouty lips painted a light coral shade. Wide eyed and always grinning, she was full of so much youth and naiveté it hurt Sakura to look at head on.

Matsuri earned the nickname when she started a few months ago for her fine features and sleek, dyed chocolate brown hair. Like a pretty little mouse. But it was her dainty yet eager attitude that made her the top girl after only four months of working. Sakura wasn't surprised. She'd been there before, and youth was always the first thing that shot you up to number one. Matsuri was still fresh, and still had so far to fall.

"Hungry?" Matsuri held up a bag of something meaty smelling and waved it in Sakura's direction. "I had a date with Daisuke-kun today, but you know I never eat much." She put a hand on her hip to emphasize her slim waist. "It's gyudon. Want it?"

Sakura's slightly less trim tummy growled at the thought of the salty-sweet beef. She'd missed breakfast and couldn't afford a proper dinner the night before, but ever since she'd started tending bar, the pounds had slowly begun creeping on. She told herself this week was a strictly Diet Coke and Meiji green smoothie week.

"Can't." Sakura turned her nose from the scent and pulled her hair into a high ponytail. Several short strands fell out of the scrunchie to frame her face.

"Trying to slim down?" Matsuri smiled cheekily, and Sakura had to resist the urge to fly across the room and deck her. The morning's altercation with the redhead had definitely lowered her threshold for bullshit.

"Cutting back on the salt," Sakura said instead, and grinned triumphantly when she finally found her pack of Black Stripes. She popped a skinny cig between her lips and pulled a worn zippo from her pocket.

"Go in the back before you light up," Tsunade ordered. "I'll meet you in a few."

With the cigarette still between her lips, Sakura rolled her eyes and gave a sarcastic bow.

It wasn't as if Tsunade cared that they smoked inside, but Sakura knew it was her way of saying she wanted to have a _talk_. As soon as she reached the janitorial area, Sakura propped open the back door with a broom and fished around again for her lighter. It was always unbearably stuffy back there.

Sakura lit her cigarette and felt another body join her, further heating the room.

"What do you want from this club?" Tsunade's tone was unusually gentle. She placed her hands on the young woman's shoulders. "What do you want from your life?"

Sakura looked out through the crack in the open door with tired eyes and blew a small ring of smoke out into the air. She felt like she was in some sort of cheesy soap opera. "God…it's too hot here. Fuck Tokyo summer."

"Get in already." Tsunade grabbed her by the collar, and like a lion dragging a cub, deposited her back into the dressing room. A few girls were busy putting on their makeup, but scrambled out quickly when they saw the dark look on their mama-san's face.

"Why do you always pick on me?" Sakura feigned a pout. "I'm here, aren't I?"

"Are you?" Tsunade pinched the pink haired woman's chin and forced her to look into her eyes. "I mean, really. Why don't you take care of yourself properly? Get your hair done, your nails. You're still in your prime, Sakura. When I was your age I was still pulling in top numbers."

Sakura snatched her face away and took another long drag on her cigarette.

"I don't have the time for that anymore," she lied, breathing out through grit teeth. "I'm just here now to make a few bucks and pay rent."

Tsunade stared at the young woman's hardened features for a long while before sighing out.

"Well you're on the bar tonight again. I can't have you out there with your hair like that," Tsunade picked up a brush and forced Sakura into one of the chairs in front of the dressing mirrors.

"Yes, mama…" Sakura closed her eyes as Tsunade began to pull the brush through her locks. The boar bristles always felt so wonderful against her scalp.

"Look… I'm serious Sakura." Tsunade pulled her hair into a low bun and began tucking it into a flesh toned wig cap. "The economy isn't what it used to be. I can't afford to have girls on who don't pull their weight. This isn't a cheap cabaret bar. I can hire a foreign cleaner or bartender for a quarter of what I'm giving you now, and you know that's not much. If you want to stay on, you need to shape up, improve your service, and start doing dohan*."

"You know I hate that." Sakura grimaced into the mirror as Tsunade pulled a black wig on securely. It was long and straight with a blunt bang. Suddenly, she looked like a completely different person - more like a middle schooler than almost middle aged.

"You'll hate being on the streets, more." Tsunade pinched her shoulder sharply.

"Ow!" Sakura spun around in the chair, eyes narrowed, but Tsunade only smirked. The blonde plucked Sakura's cigarette from her fingers and took a short puff.

"You've made such a turnaround since that time, _Cherry_." Tsunade blew smoke to the side. Her husky voice made the English sound vaguely sexual. "You wouldn't be here if I didn't believe in you.

Sakura snatched the cigarette back with a dark glare. "Don't call me that!"

o

* * *

o

"I gave you one fucking task…" Temari's brow twitched as she stared at the crushed cake on the table. The box was squashed almost flat, and pieces of dirt and gravel peppered the fluffy buttercream frosting.

Gaara stared at the floor, trying hard not to appear too pathetic with a bag of frozen peas pressed to his sore cheek.

" _I told you_ , it wasn't my fault. This girl—

"—enough with the excuses!" She swatted the back of his head with a hand fan.

"Temari…" Gaara sighed out. "I'm the one who ended up getting suckerpunched."

"You should have been carrying it in the bag, not in your hands!" Temari snapped, but when she sighed it was clear she knew how futile the whole argument was. Gaara knew anyway that it was her little way of telling him he deserved it.

Ever since they were little she'd found a way to be on his case about something, and though Gaara knew it was out of love, it was stifling all the same.

"I don't understand why you couldn't have just had it delivered." Gaara scowled through his mug of lukewarm coffee. "Would have saved us the whole trouble in the first place. And my face."

"Because that's so impersonal! You're supposed to be making a good impression now that you're finally back." Temari frowned. "Don't you care what Naruto thinks?"

"Not really…" Gaara smiled to himself. He knew the blonde would be as happy as a pig in shit just knowing he was planning to show up after being away for so long. "Besides, it's a quiet party. He doesn't need a cake. Just because you want to keep up appearances…"

"You mean _mend_ appearances!" Temari shot back, face hot with blush.

Gaara shrugged and blew out a large ring in her direction. He took a second to admire the perfect circle before responding. "You really should stop caring what people think of me."

"Jesus Gaara, I thought you were quitting," Temari fanned frantically at the smoke cloud. She, like him, hated having anything tarnished or out of order.

"I am." Gaara tapped the ash into his half empty coffee mug. It made a satisfying sizzle. "Down to five or six a day."

Temari began brushing at her silk Valentino pantsuit, as if the smoke were clinging to it. "I bought you an e-cig just last month. It's supposed to help, you know."

"Help me look like a complete cunt, you mean." Gaara took another long, satisfying drag. Stoic as usual, he ignored the way Temari screwed her lips up at the vulgarity. It was so ugly – and not in the sweet sense he usually admired.

She stared at her little brother with a look of sheer exasperation. "When are you going to get over this phase?"

"Phase?"

"The rebellious 'fuck everything' thing is cute when you're like 16 and the entire world is angst, but you're 28. In case you didn't know, that's almost 30. This is the time you're supposed to be settling down with some cute girl and getting a dog or some shit. Not…whatever it is you do all day."

"Why is it any business of yours what I'm doing all day?" Gaara gave her a vacant look, but immediately felt another rap to his head, this time from a heavy set of knuckles.

"Knock it off, you." Kankuro shuffled into the kitchen with his bathrobe still on. "You know we're just concerned about you after…"

Gaara eyed his older brother darkly, daring him to finish the sentence. Instead, Kankuro just toyed with the belt of the bathrobe. It was almost 5 now and Gaara found himself wondering if the heavily tatted bouncer had even managed to leave the apartment all day.

Looking back to Temari, Gaara rubbed at his temple with a free hand. "Look. I know you mean well, but I'm really not interested in—

"—women?" Kankuro quipped. "Called it."

"That _kind of lifestyle_ ," Gaara said flatly. "I don't believe people are meant to be monogamous, anyway."

" _Jesus_ ," Kankuro and Temari chorused.

The blonde looked at her watch and then threw the fan in Gaara's face. "I'm sorry, I can't even begin to deal with this level of bullshit right now. I need to get back to work. Give my regards to Hinata and don't let me find out you guys were late to the party!"

Gaara waved her off and extinguished the rest of his cigarette in the coffee mug. "I should get out of here, too."

"Date?" Kankuro smirked over his own cup.

"Something like that," he shrugged.

"Well, don't forget to be back here by 7:15." Kankuro tossed the contents of the redhead's mug in the sink.

Without a trace of a smile, Gaara put on his sunglasses and slunk out the same way he'd come in.

By the time he'd made it across town to Hakuto's apartment, the dark haired girl was fuming. She closed her dressing gown with one hand, but not before Gaara saw the lacy lingerie she was sporting underneath. It looked expensive, and he was fascinated by the way the little rings of lace formed delicate flowers on the tops of her pale thighs.

"You're always late," she pouted, using the other hand to take a drag on a pink e-cigarette. When she exhaled the smoke, Gaara's nostrils were assaulted with a sickly sweet vanilla scent. He _really_ couldn't stand those things.

"Sorry, I was running—

"—an errand," she finished for him, highly unamused. "As usual."

"Want me to go?" Gaara leaned against the doorframe, putting on his best lazy smile. He didn't know much about romance, but over the years found it amazing the way women would do just about anything if you showed a few teeth.

Hakuto rolled her eyes and tugged him in by the lapels. "Get your cock out."

o

* * *

o

"What happened to your face?" Hakuto finally asked once Gaara had started slowly shuffling back into his clothing. As soon as he came, the high was gone, and he found himself stuck in the usual cloudy fog of sobriety. Gaara was suddenly unable to keep from focusing on each and every one of the clean, minimalistic lines of Hakuto's apartment. The place was like her body. Pale. Bare. Perfect.

She was a new one, but a good one. They'd met on his third night back from Dubai three weeks ago. Temari had invited him out to a client's gallery showing and Hakuto was one of the attendants. He remembered her outfit perfectly – a backless minidress as bold and inky black as her hair.

She was his type – _simple_ – and despite the fact that she'd come with some preppy banker, it didn't take more than a few minutes of idle chit-chat before she was cumming with him in bed.

Most days, Gaara probably admired Hakuto's taste more than her body, but as an artist himself, it was no secret why it turned him on.

"What?" Gaara finally asked as he leaned over her makeup table to inspect his cheek. A large, purple bruise had already spread up the side of his jaw, all the way to his ear. He remembered the small pink haired woman, her cheap purple polish, and the feel of her fist against his face.

' _I can't believe this.'_

"I…tripped," he said lamely. "Didn't brace myself in time."

The last thing Gaara wanted to admit to Hakuto was getting cold clocked by a girl. Especially such a frumpy one. Gaara liked appreciating the simple beauty in most things – _most women_ – but she was a strange one. She'd practically been wearing a filthy tent, and it draped sadly over her thin frame. But he thought of her face – how sweet and soft and symmetrical it looked, even the little wrinkles at the corners of her eyes. It was interesting.

"I can cover it with some foundation if you want." Hakuto pinched a cigarette from Gaara's carton of Black Stripes and started to light up. "We're probably the same shade."

"No thanks." Gaara watched her with mild amusement as he began slipping into his shoes. "I thought you told me you were quitting."

"What can I say? You're a bad influence." She gave a childish moan and flopped onto her stomach. "Where are you going? Why can't you sit still somewhere for like five goddamn seconds?"

Gaara took a seat on the edge of the bed, staring out blankly. "5...4…3…2…-

"—Gaara!"

"It was great." He gave her head a soft pat before turning to leave. "I'll see you."

Hakuto flopped back onto the bed, pouting sourly, but watched him go.

Gaara lit up a cigarette as soon as he was outside. It was after 7:00 and he knew he had to be back downtown to meet Kankuro so they could make it to Naruto's by 8. Even though Temari's place in Aoyama wasn't far from Naruto's penthouse in Setagaya, traffic in the city around that time was always a bitch. Still, Gaara grabbed a cab anyway, ignored the 'no smoking' sticker and handed the driver Temari's black AMEX. He knew she'd be pissed, but also that after a bit of bitching she'd just expense it anyway. As the part-owner of one of the most famous art galleries in their Tokyo, she wasn't exactly hurting for cash.

But by the time the black cab rolled back up at the apartment, it was 7:45 and Kankuro was standing outside looking more than a little ticked.

"Where were you for two and half goddamn hours?" He grabbed Gaara by the shoulders as if primed to shake, but instead leaned in to catch a whiff of his breath.

"Get off!" Gaara shoved back. "Are we going or what?"

"That's up to you." Kankuro eyed his brother carefully. "Think you can behave yourself?"

Gaara snorted and crushed his cigarette into the side of the cab door. "Please. I'm always on my best behavior."

* * *

* **dohan** \- paid dates with patrons outside of the bar and regular working hours.

 ***mama-san -** a woman in charge of a geisha house or bar or nightclub in Japan.

AN: Edited to change the Yuri placeholder name to Hakuto. I thought it would be fitting based on Gaara's Gaiden. Which, no! Fuck you, Shijima! Sakura was supposed to eventually get divorced from Sasuke and marry Gaara, damn it! lol.

She'll also appear in this story later on.


	2. Saturday Night Fever

Title: Cherry

Chapter 2: Saturday Night Fever

NA:thanks everyone for the favorites and follows. Hope you like this chapter!

* * *

 _I used to wonder what a normal childhood looked like._

 _What the warmth of a mother's arms could soothe._

 _All that wonder…_

 _It's not good for your sanity._

* * *

Though Kankuro had quite gruffly instructed the driver to 'floor it,' the two brothers didn't pull up to Naruto's place until half past 8. Although it didn't show on his face, Gaara really was worried about making a good impression, even if Kankuro was all about getting there before the liquor ran out.

'Minato Mansions…' The redhead looked up and read the penthouse signage overhead. He smirked.

Though he couldn't remember the last time he'd seen the blonde, it certainly wasn't in digs like those.

"Who knew teaching at an international school could get you into a place like this?" Kankuro ribbed, but both of them knew it was most likely family money. Like Gaara, Naruto had grown up lacking a strong parental presence, but had been left behind a sizable trust from his mother and father after they passed.

"He deserves it," Gaara said as he pressed the buzzer. Naruto was the only trust fund kid he knew who tried to distance himself as much as he could from the money, opting to climb the ranks of the city's best international school to eventually become headmaster. Personally, Gaara thought it sounded like a miserable job, but he admired the kid for staying true to himself at the very least. In a town so full of fakes, that kind of honesty was what he valued the most.

"Yoooo…" A teasing voice sounded off over the intercom. The camera flicked on and Gaara pressed a thumb over the warped reflection of himself in the video screen while Kankuro fixed his hair.

"Gaara! Kankuro! Leave it to you two bastards to show up half an hour late." Kiba's almost feral chuckle filled their ears as he buzzed them in.

"If Kiba's in charge of answering the door, you know Naruto's already trashed." Kankuro chuckled, but as they approached the main door Gaara felt a lump forming in his throat. It had been almost 7 years since he'd seen any of them. Kiba, Rock Lee, Shikamaru, Naruto…they had all somehow become names without faces.

"Don't worry about it," Kankuro said as if reading his mind. He gripped Gaara's shoulder with both hands. "Just grab a can of soda or something and get to know everyone again. You know they've all missed you."

"Missed me?" Gaara mumbled to himself. It seemed more than a little strange to imagine anyone he knew from that long ago actually _missed_ him. If anything, after what he'd put them all through, they should have been relieved to see him gone.

"Stop overthinking it." Kankuro pushed his brother forward and straight through the front door as soon as it swung open.

Kiba was first to launch forward and envelop them both in a bear hug.

"Finally!" He whooped, and Gaara got a deep whiff of what smelled like rum. It was as if the guy had gone swimming in it.

Part of him was glad the guys hadn't curbed their own consumption because of his faults, but another part, a darker part, wished the smell didn't set something ablaze in his stomach.

"Kiba…" Gaara and Kankuro both shoved the young man back with both hands.

Even in high school Inuzuka always been the definition of a party animal, but it was strange now to know that the boisterous man before them was also hte successful owner of a chain of dog grooming and daycare centers. In fact, the whole room was money – old and new. Shikamaru co-owned the Aoyama gallery with his sister, but his whole family was loaded from a psychiatry practice. Rock Lee was a renowned martial artist slash weird ass fucking life coach who taught classes globally, and of course, the Subaku family claim to fame was diamonds – with booming business in Tokyo and Dubai.

It wasn't until Gaara stepped in the rest of the way that he noticed Naruto talking animatedly to Lee in the corner. The blonde threw his head back, laughing at something, and then their eyes met from across the room. It was like something out of a shitty evening drama, but Gaara stood there dumbly, frozen.

"Gaaraaaaaa!" Naruto sprayed a mouthful of chips on the marble floors as he rushed over. He was much taller and less scruffy than Gaara remembered, but just as loud.

"Gaara-san!" Lee also sprang up from the couch, and gave him a firm hug. "It's been ages. So wonderful to see you looking youthful and in good health! Except your face…."

"Ah…yeah," Gaara managed to pry himself loose, scowling at the thought of the purpling bruise. "It was just a little accident."

The dark haired man gave a shrug and from the way Lee bounded away to Kiba's side with such vigorous energy, Gaara could already tell he too had indulged quite a bit.

Once the coast was clear, Gaara directed his attention back to the blonde. "Happy Birthday, Naruto."

"I'm glad you could make it." Naruto's blue eyes looked misty for a moment, but he squeezed them shut as he grinned. "Finally someone's here to tell these guys what a dumb idea it is."

"What is?" Gaara couldn't help but fidget with his cigarettes when from the corner of his eye he saw Kankuro start to pour himself a glass of Glenlivet. "Do you mind if I smoke?"

"On the balcony." Naruto gestured as he walked across the room with the redhead. "Hinata doesn't like it in the house."

Gaara smiled as he looked around, taking in the subtle female touches of flowers and decorative lace around the spacious apartment.

"So you finally locked that down, huh?" He tried to sound casual, but felt strangely uneasy in what he now knew was a family home.

Naruto gave a sheepish grin and held up his right hand to show off the wedding band. "12 months next week. Time flies, huh?"

Gaara immediately felt himself start to blush. As much as he tried to pass himself off as a hard-ass, there was something about the blonde that made him 10x more self-conscious.

"Right. I'm sorry I couldn't—

"—don't worry about it." Naruto interrupted quickly, as if trying to save him the embarrassment. "I get it. I do. It's just nice to see you're back and doing well."

Gaara shrugged softly.

"Want one?" He tapped out a cigarette from the carton and offered it up to Naruto, but the blonde just shook his head.

"Hinata would kill me!" He laughed. "I gave that up with Bolt. And just last week we got news about a little girl…

"Well, don't you move quick?" Gaara gently ribbed, but felt another pang of guilt at the mention of his children. Two kids, he thought. How had he missed news of two kids?

Gaara hung his head and took another drag.

"We both always wanted a big family," Naruto said in the same soft, reassuring tone.

There was a silence, and then Naruto started again. "What about you?"

"Me?" Gaara tapped his cigarette on the railing and watched the ash get carried off with the night air.

Normally, smoking relaxed him, but he started puffing a little harder as the conversation took a more serious tone.

"Yeah, you know… Wife, kids, dog…the whole thing."

Gaara wanted to laugh and say he was too young for all that, but remembered that it was Naruto's birthday, and the little imp was a few months younger than him.

"I don't know." he blushed. "I guess I'm not really thinking about it."

"You should." Naruto put a hand on his shoulder. "It might calm you down a little – a bit of female influence."

' _Calm you down a little.'_ Gaara tried not to think too hard about the implications of the statement, and instead took another long drag on the cigarette.

"Hey! Are you two lovebirds coming or what?" Kiba burst suddenly through the sliding doors, onto the balcony. Gaara had to steady him to keep from toppling over the side.

"Oh right…" Naruto moaned. "This is the shit I was talking about."

"What is it now?" Gaara rolled his eyes. It was like he was back in college again entertaining Kiba's typical hair-brained schemes and shenanigans.

"Hostess club! I know this place in Ginza – the fucking hottest girls you've ever seen."

"That you have to pay for…" Shikamaru said dryly. He finished what was left in his wine glass and finally met Gaara's gaze. Although out of everyone in the group they had never been especially close, Gaara figured Temari had told him enough about his personal issues to where they might as well have been brothers.

He expected the dark-haired man to say something to him, or reveal something particularly nasty, but instead, he directed his attention back to Kiba. Gaara breathed a sigh of relief.

"Some of us have wives, you know!" Naruto pouted.

"Or fiancées who can and would kill us." Shikamaru finally gave Gaara a smirk that made him feel a bit more at ease.

"You don't have to fuck them…" Kiba threw his arms around their shoulders. "Besides, there's booze and karaoke. What more could you want?"

"I'm down." Kankuro threw back the rest of his whiskey. "Lee?"

Lee, who looked ready to explode with energy, jumped up with a hand in the air. "In!" He cried.

Gaara extinguished his cigarette and smirked at the look of pure desperation in Naruto's eyes. "Sure, whatever."

"That's four against two! Kiba, lead the way!"

Naruto hung his head. "But I'm the birthday boyyy…"

He whined, but it was no use. And halfway downtown in a cab after a few shots of patron, the blonde was warming up to the idea of karaoke and the promise of late night ramen.

Gaara, on the other hand, didn't need much convincing. Although he tried to portray himself as the blasé, uncaring kind of man Temari hated, it always bothered him to feel on the outside of a group. The men surrounding him had once been such an important part of his life and if it took hyucking it up with a few bimbos to get back in their good graces, he'd do that and more.

"Wanderlust..." Shikamaru read the sign outside with only thinly veiled disgust.

Although the lettering and sleek, black design of the entrance portrayed a high-class appearance, none of them were under any illusion about what the club was truly offering. The girls would no doubt be sweet and demure, pouring drinks, lighting cigarettes, and pretending to be interested in any vapid bit of conversation thrown their way. As fake as it all was, Gaara could understand why some men preferred to spend their time there.

If you were in corporate or even a salary man, there was nothing like a bit of booze and a pliant woman to take the edge off.

"Inuzuka-san...you've brought friends." A tall, busty blonde, the _mama_ , greeted them at the door. At first glance she appeared mid-thirties, but something about the heavy makeup and bleached blonde hair told Gaara she was mostly likely a decade older – at the very least. Behind her he could hear soft muzak playing inside, but the entrance was so shrouded in darkness that none of the girls or their patrons were visible.

"I trust they're all of your calibre..." she smiled, but Gaara could sense a danger in it. Her gaze flittered over their group, lingering on Kankuro's tattoos at first, and then the Kanji inked on Gaara's forehead. He imagined she was trying to figure out if they might be yakuza, and how to shoo them away as quickly as possible.

But when Kiba leaned forward and whispered in her ear for a moment, her demeanor softened considerably.

"Well-well…what a surprise," She folded her arms against her ample bosom. "I thought some of you looked familiar. It's quite an honor to have you here – Lee-sama, Naruto-sama, Nara-sama, Kankuro-sama, Gaara-sama."

Gaara nodded, but looked away. Up until recently he'd spent his days in Dubai, where despite the business, hardly anyone knew who he was. Ever since he'd arrived in Tokyo, however, the special treatment was out in full force. Having grown up with their father, Temari and Kankuro were used to the lavish displays, but for numerous reasons, Gaara couldn't help but hate anything to do with the man's money.

"Welcome." The blonde bowed low. She parted the curtains with one hand and then ushered them in with the other. Although the entrance was heavily dimmed, the inside was a mix of brighter seating around a karaoke stage and secluded, dimmed purple lounge booths. There was a girl swinging her hips on the stage surrounded by a mix of men – old and young, but he couldn't see her clearly enough to care.

Almost immediately a group of girls came to the front and lined up. They all seemed to resemble one another for the most part –same dyed brown hair and slim –almost too slim—figures.

"Great, huh?" Kankuro rubbed his hands together jovially, but Gaara just smirked.

"Don't tell me you've been here before, too?"

Kankuro only shrugged. "Nothing wrong for paying to play every once in a while."

Gaara rolled his eyes. He certainly agreed on principal, but had never felt the necessity. He looked to the side and saw Lee's eyes grow wide as saucers as a busty brunette walked past on the way to another table. Even Naruto's face was heating up.

"Here you are." The mama gestured them towards a booth a little further back from the clamour at the front. "I'll bring the usual for you, Inuzuka-san."

Seconds later, a girl with her hair pulled into a high ponytail passed by and placed what looked like a set of menus on the table, but when Gaara looked forward, saw they were fancy, laminated style guides of the girls in the club. Each had her own page in addition to a saucy group photo.

The very first photo was clearly the top earner. She looked young, with long brown hair and large eyes that reminded him of warm honey. Her face was definitely cute, and she looked simple enough. Just his type.

"So we just pick them? Like orders or ramen or something?" Naruto balked as the rest of the men, save Shikamaru, flipped through their guides.

"You and your ramen…" Kiba snickered. "Relax, it's your birthday!"

A girl passing by stopped all of a sudden and clapped her hands in front of her chest.

"Birthday?! We have to celebrate!" She made a motion to the mama standing nearby and the blonde just nodded. "Be right back!"

"Hopefully it's a free strip show." Kankuro elbowed his little brother in the ribs. Gaara continued browsing the pages until a flash of pink gave him pause.

 _'Fuck me.'_

There was no mistaking it – it was the woman who'd laid him out in Ginza that afternoon. The photo of her was definitely old – she was younger, brighter in the eyes, and her hair was like fresh cotton candy from root to tip, but Gaara never got a face wrong. His cheek throbbed just looking at the picture.

"Your type?" Kankuro laughed, looking over Gaara's shoulder, but then thumbed through his menu to scrutinize the same page. There wasn't one. "Looks like it's probably an old book."

"Made your selections?" The mama came back with a tray of whiskey sours. Gaara pushed his across the table with a frown.

"This girl." He held up the guide. "Is she here tonight?"

The mama's face paled visibly, but she forced a smile. "I'm sorry, this is actually a previous—

"—Is she here?" Gaara pushed, oblivious to the startled glances the other men at the table were giving him.

The mama paused and put her hands on her hips. She was clearly a no nonsense type of woman.

"Is there a problem?" Her tone turned dark.

"Nothing at all. I'd just like to see her. I want her to sit with me. Is _that_ a problem?" Gaara fished in his wallet and pulled out Temari's AMEX once again. Beside him, Kankuro snorted into his drink to cover a laugh. It was probably a total mistake, but something in Gaara wanted to make her pay, if only for one night.

The blonde's eyes glittered at the sight of the card, and she quickly swiped it up to make the first charge.

"No problem at all. She'll be right out for you."

* * *

As soon as the doors opened at 7pm, Club Wanderlust was buzzing. Men of all types walked in – young, old, gorgeous, balding—but Sakura paid them little mind. Her eyes were on the sweet, singing bodies of the girls, and Matsuri in particular.

The little mouse seemed to float through the seating area as she moved from one booth to the next, chatting and laughing and lighting the cigars of some of the wealthiest men in Tokyo. Sakura couldn't help but smile as she watched the young girl entertain an older man in a few rounds of karaoke. He had been sticking to her all night like white on rice, and from what Sakura had seen of the tips Matsuri was depositing behind the bar, it was well worth it.

On nights like those, when the money and liquor flowed so freely, Sakura felt a familiar itch. The desire to swallow down a few shots, do a line and let a man she barely knew paw her from head to toe. It wasn't long ago that she had giggled and danced down the same aisles, a lighter in her pocket and a fresh drink always in her hand. She'd felt unstoppable then.

Now, she hid out behind the bar in a dark wig and an old sequined mini dress. The red fabric used to hang on her teenage frame, but now clung to wider, more womanly hips and curves. It wasn't any secret most of her old customers preferred the former. In her business, when you grew up a little you started becoming replaceable. Curves were nice, but with age would also make you look trashy.

Sakura didn't mind the way she looked – there were probably a few areas she could trim down a little, but she would be lying if she didn't say there were days she wished she were 17 again.

"We're going to need two celebration bottles for table 22." Tsunade snapped Sakura out of her daze. "That Inuzuka is back, and he brought some high class friends."

The blonde reached over the countertop and grabbed an unclaimed glass of sake while Sakura ducked behind the bar for their largest bottles of Crystal. Celebration bottles were some of their most expensive, and usually just for high rollers. It was bound to be a wild night.

"That machine is going to be the death of this place." Tsunade frowned suddenly through a sip of her drink. She gestured towards the karaoke stage where Matsuri was doing a cute and lively rendition of some top pop song.

Sakura only shrugged, but knew what she meant. Back when she had first started at _Wanderlust_ , the karaoke machines of the 90s had started to clash with the high class Ginza club reputation and Tsunade always moaned about chucking it. But still, some of their wealthier and more eccentric clientele just wouldn't let it go.

Sakura heaved the large bottles onto the table one by one and then took out a box of sparklers.

"Who's leading the charge?" She looked at her mama with a grin. The blonde woman looked apologetic for a moment, but then finished her drink.

"You and the mouse." Tsunade reached over again, but this time to smooth the flyaway strands on Sakura's dark wig. Sakura's smile dropped completely.

"You're kidding."

"Oh come on, Sakura. You should be psyched. This is the first time in months someone's ever requested you."

"I don't care!" Sakura made a motion to tug the wig off her head, but Tsunade slapped her hand.

"You're on your last leg here," she warned. "If I were you, I'd get out there and try to get on my good side."

Sakura swallowed hard. Though she regularly joked with her mama, two things Tsunade definitely didn't kid around with were her liquor and her money. the club was a bit busier than usual that night, and Sakura knew that it was her duty not just to pour drinks, but to fill in when needed. Still, a request? Sakura's picture had been taken out of the guide book months ago, and since then she'd hidden herself away from most customers. She was typically ignored, not sought after.

And although she fantasized about the money and fun from time to times, Sakura knew better than anyone what a slippery slope the job could be. After almost 8 years in the business, she tried to avoid anything but the bar as much as she could.

"Inuzuka, huh?" Sakura frowned. "He's the handsy one, isn't he?"

"They're all handsy, Hitomi." Tsunade frowned. Sakura knew that whenever the blonde used her stage name, she really meant business.

All Sakura wanted to do was go slink off and die somewhere, but before she could even dwell in her own misery, Matsuri came clicking up in her heels, grinning wide.

"What's with you?" Sakura asked, fully expecting the girl to pull another wad of bills from her bra.

"Gaara-sama!" She squealed.

"Who's ' _Gaara-sama!?"_ Sakura playfully mocked Matsuri's frantic intonation. Matsuri's jaw dropped as she stared at the older woman.

"Only the son of the CEO of the largest diamond manufacturer in East fucking Asia!" Matsuri pushed behind the bar and dug out a gossip magazine from under the sink." He and his siblings are from Tokyo, but Gaara-sama managed the Dubai arm of the business for like a million years. He just came back a few weeks ago!"

She began flipping through the pages frantically, but Sakura couldn't find it in her to care very much - rich men came in to visit every other day.

Sakura whistled low, but continued polishing the bartop. "Sounds like money."

"Sounds like gorgeous!" Matsuri found the page and shoved the article in Sakura's face. The pinkette made a move to swat it away, but when she caught sight of the man's features on the page, she couldn't look away. Dark red hair. Black rimmed eyes. The kanji for love etched in his forehead.

' _Fuck_ _me_ _.'_ Sakura felt her stomach drop at the memory of slugging him right across the face.

"Gorgeous, isn't he?" Matsuri fluffed her hair a little at the root with her fingertips. "And I'm going to make him my client."

"I…" Sakura backed up into the wall behind the bar, face pale.

"Birthday bottle service!" Someone cried cheerfully from behind, and Tsunade grabbed her by the shoulders.

"Hurry and get ready – this is your chance to snag a good one!" She brushed out the tangles in Sakura's wig and helped hike up the bottom of her minidress. Upon noticing she was in flip-flops, Tsunade kicked off her own heels for Sakura to step into.

"You can do it." She pressed a tube of gloss to Sakura's parted lips. Feeling quite numb, the young woman stood dumbly as her boss prettied her mouth. "It's the blonde one's birthday. Do the usual cheer and just pray he picks you. He seems simple."

"I can't – I— I need..."Sakura desperately wanted to say something like 'booze' or 'coke,' but before she knew it, she was being shoved out into the glittering entryway.

* * *

:p


	3. Rules of Attraction

**Title: Cherry**

 **Chapter 3: Rules of Attraction**

* * *

 _ooo_

 _He said he liked my hair long and flowing, like the river._

 _Hanging so dark and thick he could lose himself in it._

 _The cotton candy color made him sick, he said._

 _Reminded him of something people scraped off the sidewalk._

ooo

* * *

Sakura couldn't breathe.

One minute she was trying her best to remain invisible at the bar, and the next being shoved out at a table full of men.

All of a sudden it was like her dress was too tight, her wig too snug, and the temperature of the club just stifling. Sakura couldn't remember the last time she'd seriously entertained a customer, let alone one that most likely had it out for her.

She couldn't breathe.

As soon as her eyes adjusted to dim lighting of the seating area, she saw them. A table of smart-looking men who'd clearly had too much to drink. The birthday blonde was in the middle being petted by one of the girls, but was quite animatedly showing her pictures of his child. Next, Sakura recognized Kiba Inuzuka. He wasn't a true regular, but came by once or twice a month to sit with whoever had the biggest boobs on the floor.

Currently, he was whooping it up on the karaoke stage, surrounded by a group of girls while a man with facial tattoos and another with a rather horrific looking bowl cut cheered him on. The most non-descript of their group, who wouldn't have been too bad looking if for not for his regrettable choice of pineapple-like hairstyle, seemed to be halfway between fading away and falling asleep.

And then there was him. The redhead.

As much as she didn't want to admit it, Matsuri was right. He was, gorgeous. Despite looking miserable as fuck, there was something about that blood red hair and those dark rimmed eyes that made her stand and take notice.

 _'Gaara.'_ Sakura said the name in her head, and found it equally as strange as when Matsuri first said it. The wordsmith in her immediately wanted to know the kanji, and the pervert whether or not the carpet matched the drapes. Dark and dangerous always had been her type.

He sat on the edge of the couch with his legs crossed, looking strangely prim and most definitely sober. Like pineapple-head, he tried to come off bored, but Sakura noticed the way his gaze flicked anxiously between the karaoke stage and his untouched drink.

Around her, suddenly the other girls began to clap and cheer in time. "Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you…"

The redhead finally looked up and though their eyes didn't meet, Sakura could feel his dark gaze crawling up her bare legs. She couldn't tell if he recognized her right away with the wig on, but knew that once she was forced to take a seat, it would only be a matter of time.

"Hitomi!" Matsuri dug a bony elbow into Sakura's rib until she joined in with song.

"Happy birthday dear Naruto-sama…!"

She tried to copy Matsuri and raise the bottle of Crystal over her head as she walked, but it was trickier than she remembered. On top of that, it had been so long since she'd worn high heels, Sakura couldn't help but sway into Matsuri's personal space.

"Careful!" The young girl hissed over her shoulder, but it was too late. As soon as another hostess reached forward to light one of the sparklers in Sakura's bottle, she immediately lost her balance and tumbled forward into the table.

"Hitomi watch out!" Matsuri screamed.

Two sets of strong arms grabbed for her, but down she went, flipping over the booth and across the laps of both the blonde and the redhead.

"Ooh!" A chorus of male voices groaned. When Sakura opened her eyes she was upside down, hanging half off the table and still holding the Crystal as the last of its contents dripped down her front and onto the floor. It felt like everyone was staring – Kiba's friends, the other hostesses, their customers…

Sakura's cheeks burned red and she wasn't sure what to do. She could feel her throat constricting again.

"Hitomi-chan!" Naruto gripped Sakura by the shoulders and pulled her down into a free space on the couch. "Are you okay?!"

Sakura looked up and was startled by the deep look of concern in his eyes. While the others had snickered, he seemed truly mortified on her behalf.

' _Tsunade was right. He is simple,_ ' Sakura thought, but then scrambled to push back down the edge of her dress.

"Oh don't worry about me, Naruto-sama! Occupational hazard!" Sakura put on her cutest smile, and it was like it was all coming back to her – the flirtation and the total lack of shame.

Naruto beamed at her, relieved. Matsuri, on the other hand, looked about ready to die. As top girl, Sakura imagined she was humiliated at having to do the celebration presentation with a washed up "old hag," let alone one with the audacity to spill an expensive bottle all over their most exclusive guests.

"Our apologies, Gaara-sama!" Matsuri directed her bow only at the redhead, who had just narrowly missed getting drenched in the spill. "The bottle's on the house, of course!"

"It's not a problem." He flashed his teeth and Sakura watched a pink blush spread over the slim girl's perfect cheekbones. "I think we've all had quite enough here, anyway."

Sakura nearly jumped at the closeness of his voice. Suddenly, she remembered the second set of hands that had reached out to stabilize her. They were still there – one against the small of her back, the other just grazing her knee. She looked up into Gaara's face and the first thing she saw was a large, purple bruise.

' _Damn. I really got him good…'_

"So glad you made it, Hitomi-chan." The redhead smiled at her, but Sakura wasn't the least bit impressed. She could see in his eyes the malice, and imagined if he had brows, they would have been narrowed at her in disgust.

"Ah..." Matsuri looked between the two nervously, and then made a motion to her hair with her hands. "Maybe you should take a second to put yourself together, Hitomi?"

Without thinking, Sakura reached up to straighten the bangs on her wig, but they were nowhere to be found. When she lifted the empty bottle of Crystal to her face to act as a mirror she saw the hair was pushed halfway up her head, and her pink locks were on full display. Mortified, she yanked the wig and cap off completely.

"Hitomi!" a sharp, but sweet tone called out, and when Sakura looked up she saw Tsunade from across the room - her arms folded and a scowl on her bright red lips. Her first warning.

"Shit."

"Now isn't that unladylike... "Gaara smirked, and Sakura quickly covered her mouth with both hands. There were a series of rules on decorum with customers, and swearing was most definitely a no-go.

"I should probably..." She started to stand, but Gaara pulled her back down by the wrist with force.

"No. Stay."

It was an order and a threat. Gaara fished in his pocket for a cigarette and then placed it between his lips, expectant. In them dim club lighting, his eyes glittered maliciously. The corners of Sakura's smile twitched. He seemed to know the score as well as she did. No matter how tough she was in her personal life, when it came to the club, she was at the mercy of the customer. His wants, his needs, his desires - it was up to her to fulfill them all without question. And all with a smile on her pretty pouted lips.

Sakura met his gaze again, but this time held it with confidence. Gaara could practically see the gears in her head turning, screeching out a big 'fuck you' in his direction.

"Yes, of course Gaara-sama," She said sweetly, and slowly pulled a lighter from the bra of her soaked minidress. Sakura could feel his eyes tracing the silver as she dragged it up against her skin.

She smirked. No matter how much money he had or who the fuck his parents were, he could never beat her. She'd been in the game for years and knew all the tricks.

Sakura flipped it open with one smooth motion and then leaned in close before touching the flame to the crisp end of the cigarette. Gaara's green eyes glowed warmly against the light, and when the flame caught, he pulled back, satisfied.

"Anything else, Gaara-sama? Can I freshen your glass?" Sakura gestured to the full tumbler of whisky on the table, and was delighted to see him blush.

"I'm fine." He glanced nervously at the blonde, but Naruto was more focused on digging into a bowl of peanuts than paying him any mind.

"Are you not good with whisky?" Sakura grinned as she poured what was left of the Crystal into a fresh glass. "How about champagne? Or maybe I can find some sparkling wine or juice?"

She kept her tone eager and sweet, but was sure there was nothing a man hated more than the implication that he couldn't handle his liquor.

Gaara glared at her for a second, but then tapped his ash onto the tabletop, knowing full well the pinkette would have to clean it. "I have to be up early in the morning. I'd much rather watch you drink. Go ahead."

"Of course." Sakura nodded. She knew the deal. Just as many men came in to torture girls as much as have them lavish praise. Even in the high class clubs, it wasn't odd to see girls drinking to the point of blacking out, but Sakura knew her body and her limits. If that's the way he wanted to play it, she'd go there – no problem.

"Cheers." Gaara raised a glass of water to hers, and sipped slowly as Sakura drained the glass of whiskey in one swallow.

"Impressive!" Another male voice jumped in, and Sakura turned to see it was the man with the facial tattoos. He wasn't bad looking, and had a tall, powerful form that most women would have been attracted to. He took a seat across from Gaara and gave him a wink.

"My little brother always likes the tough girls."

"Brother?" Sakura looked between them with a grin. Aside from the tats, they really didn't look much alike.

" _Little_ brother." Again, he made sure to emphasize the word 'little.'"I'm Kankuro Sabaku." He took Sakura's hand and pressed a kiss to the back of it. When she gave a flirtatious giggle, Gaara's own hand instantly tightened up around his glass.

"Watch out," Gaara muttered. "Who knows what else she's been swallowing tonight…"

A stunned silence settled at their table. Sakura resisted hard the urge to slap him, and instead smiled dumbly as Kankuro shot his brother a glare.

"Gaara!" Naruto whipped his head around suddenly in shock, and Gaara's cheeks burned red.

"There was no need for that," Kankuro chided him.

'Hm,' Sakura smiled to herself as she watched the redhead sink down a bit into his seat. 'So much for Mr. Toughguy.'

"Oh I don't mind," Sakura picked up another discarded shot from the table and knocked it back before he could apologize. "I really do like my drinks."

"A girl after my own heart!" Kankuro reached across the table and ruffled her hair, leaving the pink strands in a mess around her face. Sakura, taken totally off guard, reacted with a weak laugh.

"Don't you think you're a little old for that?" Gaara smirked, but Naruto nudged him with his knee in displeasure. Kankuro, less subtle, delivered a swift kick to the shin.

"Ow!" He hissed.

"What's the matter with you?" Kankuro glowered over his drink.

Gaara's hand shook, and he glared at Sakura before excusing himself from the table. "I need to use the restroom."

He pushed out of the booth and Sakura looked after him, amused. Most men with bad attitudes typically came in with friends on the same spectrum of smug and disgusting, but in this case, it seemed that despite being wasted, Gaara's clique were all complete gentlemen.

It made him stick out like a sore thumb.

* * *

o

* * *

o

In the bathroom, Gaara popped a Xanax and swished it down with tap water. His head was pounding and his heart racing. What he'd wanted to do was humiliate that girl – that Hitomi, but all he'd done was make himself look like a total jackass.

That night was supposed to be about getting his friends back and assuring them he was stable and trustworthy. But In a matter of seconds he'd ruined himself – again.

He closed his eyes and saw her jade green eyes and that sexy, mocking smirk.

 _Cunt. Fucking Cunt!_

Gaara gripped his head with one hand and braced himself against the sink with the other.

All of a sudden, there was a sharp knock at the door.

"Gaara-sama?"

He recognized the voice instantly – the sickly sweet intonation of the top hostess from before. He waited a few moments for the Xanax to take effect, then plastered on his best smile and swung open the door to meet her. The teen was standing tall in a pair of heels and a black club dress that didn't quite cling to her straight frame. She held a serving tray to her chest.

"Oh hey…" he hesitated.

"Mia." Matsuri bowed and allowed Gaara to drink her in. He studied the brown haired girl intently. Slim, angular, too young. He could see himself doing her already. She looked light enough to lift and pin against a wall. She stood up straight again and a deep blush rose over her sculpted cheekbones.

"Mia-chan," Gaara repeated with a smile.

"I just came to check on you," she folded her hands together shyly. "Hitomi's known for being a little difficult and well…I just wanted to…"

Gaara stepped out of the doorway and leaned into her a little. "Wanted to what?"

"Well…" Matsuri touched his arm.

"Gaara-sama?" A huskier voice floated to his ears and when Gaara turned around he saw her – Hitomi, leaning against the wall with the same twisted smirk on her full lips.

Her pink hair was still limp and damp with sweat from being under the wig, but Gaara was startled by how much he liked the look. Normally he preferred girls with a sense of order around them, but there was something sexy about the way her rumpled, frizzy locks formed waves around her face. Something that screamed 'fuck me hard.'

He swallowed down a lump in his throat.

"Oh, I see…" Sakura touched a finger to her chin and pouted. "Mama told me to come check on you, but it looks like you're already being taken care of."

It had always been an unspoken rule in the club that you never stole another girl's client, but instead of apologizing, Matsuri just hid her face with the serving tray. Gaara was the first one to pull away.

"Wait a second." He stepped forward and caught Sakura by the wrist before she could turn. "I paid for the hour. I still have at least thirty minutes left with you."

"So romantic…"Sakura curled herself against his arm, but Gaara could hear the sarcasm dripping from every word. It was infuriating him to the point of arousal.

If there was ever a woman in his life he wanted to hate fuck, it was her.

"Let's go somewhere private." The request came out more like a hiss, but Sakura just smiled up at him.

' _If I can just bear thirty minutes more of this asshole I can get out of here…'_ she thought.

"Gaara-sama requested some privacy," Sakura looked at Tsunade with pleading eyes, but the blonde just gave her a firm pat on the shoulder.

"There's some free seating on the roof. Show him a good time, won't you?" She gave a little pinch to Sakura's elbow before she could scowl, and ushered them both up the stairs.

As soon as Sakura pushed open the door to the rooftop terrace, a cool breeze hit her face. She hadn't realized how stuffy it was inside until she was exposed to the cool, night air.

"Nice, huh?" She said on reflex, but when she turned around, Gaara grabbed her hard and pushed her up against the nearest wall. Immediately it was like the wind had been knocked out of her.

"You made me look like an idiot down there!" Gaara squeezed her forearms with both hands, but Sakura slammed her forehead against his and tore away in an instant, heart racing.

"You bastard! Touch me like that again and you'll have a black eye to match that cheek of yours," she hissed.

She balled her hands into two fists and Gaara realized what he'd just done.

"I'm sorry!" he blushed, holding his sore forehead, and Sakura's defenses dropped ever so slightly. She couldn't understand this man. One minute he was ready crucify her, the next he was like an awkward little kid.

Sakura cut her eyes away from him and dropped her fists. The two stood at opposite ends of the roof, saying nothing. When finally the silence became too much, Sakura crossed in front of him at the bar. She reached into the cooler for a bottle of black tea and two tall glasses. The upstairs seating had recently been renovated and was even classier than below, with dark black couches and soft mood lighting.

Gaara followed the glitter of her sequined dress in the dark, and the way her hips swayed oddly as she staggered in her heels. She looked more like an awkward teen than a seasoned hostess.

"You don't drink, do you?" Sakura poured a glass of the cool tea and pushed it across the bar top towards him. Gaara hesitated, but then when he saw her pour one of her own, picked it up.

"No," his voice was a mumble. "Not anymore."

She nodded to herself and then gestured for him to have a seat on the couch near them. When he didn't move, she sat first and turned away from him to face the skyline. Gaara popped another pill into his mouth as soon as he was sure she wasn't looking.

"A hostess bar… kind of a shit place for a guy who doesn't drink."

Gaara noticed she seemed to be speaking more to herself than anything, and found that when he finally took a seat she gave him another fake, sweet smile. He felt his desire for her start to wane.

"You should have a good time, regardless." She touched his knee the way she'd been taught years ago, and then leaned into the slight space between them. "Drink anything you want, Gaara-sama."

Gaara felt his body relax, but wasn't sure if it was from the smooth, warm tone of her voice, or just the Xanax.

"Talk to me normally, won't you?" He took a sip of the tea and found the cool bitterness refreshing as always. It reminded him of childhood, and summers at home with his brother and sister.

"Hm?" Sakura pretended not to hear, and instead traced lazy circles on his thigh while checking her watch. Only twenty minutes more with him and she could get back to the bar where she belonged.

"I don't want the canned conversation." He finished his tea and then pulled a fresh cigarette from his shirt pocket. "Speak to me normally, like I'm a friend. Not a paycheck."

Sakura bit back a snort. It wasn't the first time she'd heard lines like those before, but she certainly hadn't expected it from someone like him. The tattoo, the weird hair, the guyliner, she was sure he was used to taking whatever he wanted – by persuasion or force.

"But Gaara-sama…" she played dumb instead, and lit his cigarette as soon as he placed it between his lips. He leaned back and took a drag, but before exhaling, pulled a few bills from his back pocket.

"You called me a bastard before." He held them up to her face. Five crisp 10,000 yen tones. "Did you mean it? Is that what you think of me?"

Sakura opened her mouth, but Gaara shook his head before she could spout off another tired line.

"Speak honestly."

She frowned. "The kind of man who would attack a woman like that and try to pay her off…he's a bastard. Totally. A stuck up bastard."

Another awkward silence settled, and Sakura twiddled her thumbs. She didn't know what would come next. Would he report her to Tsunade? Get her fired? Try to hit her again?

She didn't think she could survive another head-butt.

"You smoke?" Gaara broke the silence by offering up his cigarette, and Sakura stared up at him in disbelief.

"Well?" He waved it at her again.

She wasn't supposed to say yes, but something told her it was okay. She took the cigarette and Gaara slid the notes under her untouched glass of black tea.

"I don't want to be that kind of man," he said as Sakura took a drag. She tried to look as prim as she could while smoking, but eventually gave up and hunched over the table, using Gaara's empty glass as an ashtray.

"Well try harder," she snipped. "Beating up hostesses and calling them sluts is never going to make you come off as a standup guy."

"Yeah? And what does beating up customers get you?" Gaara took the cigarette back with a smirk.

Sakura picked up the bills from the table and grinned. "About ¥50,000."

"You're funny."

"I'm honest," she grinned, baring all her teeth. Gaara felt his body start to relax again, but then he looked at his watch. The hour was up, and he was sure the boys downstairs would be getting restless. Part of him was pissed for making the exact opposite impression he'd planned, but another part, the crazy part, was feeling strangely at home next to a too-loud hostess.

"Can I see you again?" He blurted and passed her back the stub of a cigarette.

For a moment, Sakura stood dumbfounded. Still holding the cigarette, she hissed out as the last of it burned her fingertips. Gaara tried not to laugh.

"W-what?" She mumbled, sucking on her singed thumb and forefinger.

"Here," he gestured. "Can I come back and speak to you?"

Sakura thought of the chaos that had erupted thanks to him, but then of the notes she had pressed into her bra. She could quit borrowing money from Tsunade and Ino. She could finally buy a decent pair of shoes.

"I-I guess. It's a free country," She tried not to sound too shocked.

"Great," He headed back towards the stairs. "I'll see you, Hitomi."

Sakura watched him go, and then remained on the roof for a few moments staring at the glasses of tea on the table.

' _Gaara-sama…'_ She smacked herself in the forehead.

"Here we go again."

* * *

AN: Enjoy, and let me know what you think! So grateful for the comments! And for everyone reading LIW, get ready for a new chapter this week! :DDDD


	4. Public Enemy Number One

**Title:** Cherry

 **Chapter 4:** Public Enemy No. 1

 **AN:** Rated M for adult themes of a sexual nature and excessive use of the word "cunt." ;D

* * *

 _For as long as I've remembered I've never been able to think clearly._

 _There were the days I spent in bed hiding,_

 _And the frightening moments I was so live and wired I couldn't sit still._

 _It's hard to know where you're going when you can't remember where you've been._

* * *

6.2 miles.

47 minutes 32 seconds.

Heart rate: crazy.

Lungs: burning.

Gaara ramped up the speed on the treadmill, trying his hardest to block out the nagging urge for a cigarette. Sunday mornings were HIIT mornings, and a disciplined schedule was the only way the redhead could combat any pounds of pudge trying to sneak their way onto his lean form.

It was the Lithium that did it to him – the little pink pills that kept him remarkably bland and yet obsessively compulsive about every morsel that went into his mouth. He'd gained 15lbs last year without even thinking about it, and it had taken him months to shed.

It drove him crazy.

Well… _crazier._

"Are you motherfuckers kidding me?!" Temari's shriek pierced through the heavy metal soundtrack on Gaara's headphones. "Four grand on strippers?!"

Determined not to stop, Gaara forced up the incline. Ever since coming back from Dubai he dutifully spent the weekends with his siblings, but the moment Temari started freaking out about something he wished he'd stayed home and locked himself indoors.

"They weren't strippers…" Gaara could hear Kankuro's agitated moan from the other room. " _Hostesses_."

There was a loud crash, and Kankuro yelped. Gaara winced, imagining the carnage, and then rubbed his forehead, remembering the head-butt he'd received the night before.

' _Why am I surrounded by violent women?'_

"You!" Temari tore suddenly into the gym and ripped the safety cord connecting Gaara's belt to the treadmill. It came to an abrupt halt, and he had to jump onto the rails to keep from falling backwards.

"What?" He pushed his headphones off completely. Even panting for breath, he tried to keep his tone as level and serious as possible.

"Were you drinking last night?" She held up a printout of what Gaara knew had to be her credit card statement. "Because I'm sure as fuck that's the only reason you'd think it was okay to use my card to pay some fucking—

"It was Kankuro's idea," Gaara defaulted with a shrug.

"What!? You were the one who actually bought a girl!" Kankuro crawled into the room on his hands and knees. He was covered in soil, and Gaara could see the remains of an expensive potted plant on the floor. Temari was always anal about her home décor, and so he knew it must be serious.

"What?" The sandy blonde reeled back around and grabbed hold of Gaara's sweat soaked shirt.

" _And_ he treated her like shit." Kankuro rose to his feet with a smug grin.

"Oh, so is this what you've become now?!"Temari forced Gaara's head under her armpit the way she'd used to when they were kids. Though she'd never been serious then, now Gaara felt as though she was trying her hardest to suffocate him. "You're supposed to be keeping your nose clean, you little bastard!"

Gaara managed to struggle free and fell onto his back. His head narrowly missed the brick edge of the fireplace. Seeing she had taken it too far, Temari dropped to her knees beside him to help.

"You're mental." Gaara brushed her off. "We went out together and had fun. _As men do_. I didn't even drink!"

Temari sat back on her heels and sighed. "You still shouldn't put yourself in situations like those. I know you've been fine for a few years now, but I still worry about you. About our family. You know that."

Gaara resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the sudden revisionist history. They, like his father, had cast him aside when things had gotten a bit difficult and he needed them the most. Now that he was back it was fine to play house at Temari's every now and then, but every second with them was a constant reminder of the life he'd never had before. Despite the money from their father, Temari had her art business, Kankuro managed a number of clubs on the high street, and Gaara was stuck with nothing but a never-ending guilt-trip.

"Well don't." Gaara pushed sweat-soaked hair off his forehead. "Like you said, I've been fine for years now. _On my own_."

A look of shame washed over Temari's features and she hugged her arms to her chest, unsure of what to say next. Gaara however, was certain he didn't want to go any further down that line of conversation. He was feeling unusually irritable, and wasn't sure if it was because of the new meds, or some not-so ancient history beginning to rear its ugly head. Frowning, he pushed up from the marble floors and grabbed his headphones from beside her.

"I've gotta get back home." He started for the door, but Kankuro's thick form cut him off before he could open it.

"Wait." He placed a hand on his chest. "You can't just rush out every time things get difficult. I think we should talk. You know we've never really apolog-

"—I _really_ don't want to do this right now." Gaara grabbed his jacket off the wall by Kankuro's head and started fishing for his pack of cigarettes. Before he could pull them out, Kankuro grabbed his hand.

Although he wanted to shove him aside, Gaara knew better. No matter how hard he worked out, Kankuro had always been the taller and stronger one. He was the baby of the family, and they never let him forget it. It was bad enough he'd gotten bested twice previous day by a _girl_ – he definitely didn't want to take another ass beating from his lazy brother.

"I think we need to." Kankuro let his wrist go. "All of us. We want to know how you're adjusting."

"You want to know if I'm taking my meds." Gaara took the chance to find the cigarettes and popped one between his lips. "I am. And when I'm not a complete creative zombie, I'm doing just fine thanks. So neither of you have to worry about me embarrassing you at the club, or the art show, or whatever the fuck else you guys care about so much."

He flicked open his lighter, agitated, and lit up.

"Now that's not fair and you know it." Kankuro pushed open the front door as soon as Gaara started smoking and yanked the redhead down to sit with him on the front steps.

"Yeah well, I'm living proof life isn't fucking fair." Gaara shook him off.

Kankuro said nothing at this, and Gaara continued puffing furiously.

He didn't understand why he was trying so hard when it seemed like no one really believed in him. He felt fine. The drugs and the scrutiny – it was all a waste.

Gaara had the sudden urge to crush something, but instead directed his thoughts to Hakuto, and screwing her over a perfectly square table. It had taken a while, but over time he'd trained himself to funnel all anger into aggressive sexual expression. In AA Gaara learned how common it was to trade one addiction for another, but he'd take hardcore sex and cigarettes over drunken mania any day. Gaara closed his eyes and before he knew it, Hakuto's inky black hair was turning pink at the edges.

"Gaara?" Kankuro's deep voice startled him out of the sexual haze.

"Huh?"

"I'm talking to you!" Kankuro snatched the cigarette and took a quick puff before extinguishing it on the cement steps. He had quit only months ago, and was sure part of the reason Gaara smoked so much around him was just to piss him off.

Gaara scowled and leaned forward to let his chin rest on the heel of his palm. He wasn't up for another lecture, but Kankuro's hairy armpits were a place he definitely wanted to avoid.

"What do you want from your life?" He asked seriously. "Ever since you've been back from Dubai you seem to be really… _odd_. Temari might have been a little weird about it, but it's true – you're almost thirty and have nothing to show for it."

Gaara frowned. Kankuro had never been one for emotional talks, so he knew things must have been getting serious.

"I don't understand what you want me to say." He sighed out. "I played the game, I did the rehab. I'm over here every fucking weekend checking in with the two of you. What else do you want?"

"I want to understand you." Kankuro admitted. "We both do."

"I think we're past that, don't you?" Gaara couldn't hold back the bitterness in his tone. "I think the least you can do is accept that I'm trying."

"Are you? Last night at the club it really threw me the way you spoke to that girl," Kankuro looked down at his hands. "I never would have expected that kind of thing from you. But lately…"

"What?" Gaara snapped. He was deeply embarrassed at the way he'd reacted to the pink-haired hostess in front of his friends, but definitely didn't need another reminder. He'd been up half the night thinking about the scared, angry look in her eyes when he pushed her up against the wall.

"Temari's pregnant. Did she tell you?"

Gaara was silent. Stunned. Of course she hadn't. When he wasn't hiding out in his apartment, Gaara was either busy screwing someone or acting like a mute in Temari's place. The blonde still seemed to walk on eggshells around him when it came to anything serious.

"She wants you to be a good uncle, but she's freaked. How can she trust you when she's never sure which Gaara she's going to get?" Kankuro stood suddenly, but Gaara barely noticed.

He'd never imagined having kids of his own, but the thought of being excluded again from a growing family made his stomach hurt.

"We want you to consider therapy." Kankuro dug in his pants pocket for a moment and pulled out a crisp, white business card. "We looked into it. She's the best money can buy."

Gaara took it without even looking. His head was aching from the confrontation and all he wanted to do was escape. "I have somewhere to be."

At that point, Gaara didn't expect Kankuro to try and stop him anymore. Ever since he was a kid, he was always running off somewhere, looking for space and relief. And for years, his brother and sister had simply been tolerating him. The racing thoughts he'd tried to fend off that morning were back again, and building into a major headache.

Without thinking, he grabbed up his jacket and rushed off the porch.

"Gaara!" Kankuro shouted out after his brother, but he broke out into a run, trying his hardest to escape the noise.

* * *

Sundays were Sakura's day off.

Usually she'd spend her mornings in front of the TV squinting through static and eating leftovers, but that Sunday the first thing she did was take the tip from the night before and head for Ginza's high street. It was the first time in a long time she'd ever had that much money on her, and though she knew it should have gone to rent or chipping away at her last loan from Ino, something in her cried out for _stuff._

It was the same when she was a teen and still using telephone clubs and doing enjo kosai*. Back then, everyone who'd heard her lonely voice on the calls wanted to meet her in person. And more meets meant more money. The more money she had, the better she felt about herself and the shabby home she shared with her mom in the country.

It was a compulsion. Sakura knew it, but still stood proudly in front of the mirror in a floral thrifted sundress admiring the pair of pink, suede peep toe pumps on her feet. They would cost everything she had in her wallet, but she didn't care. They made her legs look stellar and Sakura was convinced she'd earned it.

¥50,000 for being an utter bitch to some stuck up snob? She'd take it any day.

 _Speaking of stuck up snobs…_

Sakura was convinced the universe hated her. As soon as the clerk rang up the shoes and she exited with the bag, she saw him as clear as day.

Gaara Sa-what's-his-face. Public enemy #1.

The redhead from the night before stood in front of a fancy café across the street, sweating and smoking like a chimney. He had a black motorcycle jacket slung over his shoulder and he looked as if he had just run a marathon. Sakura hadn't realized how hard she was staring until he looked up suddenly and fixed his gaze on hers. The air of total frustration washed from his face and he threw her a small wave.

"Fuck," she hissed to herself.

For a moment Sakura considered just walking on and pretending she hadn't seen him, but knew that for a hostess, a day off was never really a _day off_. Most of her old customers would ignore her in public, but even after one night this one was proving to be a nuisance. Still, in the back of her mind Sakura could hear Tsunade screaming at her to get his contact details and make sure he came back to the club and bought a bottle or two.

Bag in hand, Sakura took a deep breath, turned toward him, and crossed the street.

The closer she got, the more she couldn't help but stare. She may have been annoyed by the man, but Matsuri was right. He was gorgeous, and the way his shirt stuck to his body, translucent with sweat, she could see just about every firm and chiseled reason why. Even sweaty and disheveled, she had to admit he looked fantastic.

"Hitomi, right?" He straightened up, swiped the hair out of his face, and put out his cigarette against the wall.

"Gaara-sama!" Sakura put on her best false smile and skipped over to his side. "You look great!"

Gaara remembered the tip from last night and gave her bag a knowing look. "Lahbutons, huh?" Sakura nearly cringed at the mispronunciation.

' _Can a rich guy really be so dumb?'_

"I've always wanted a cute pair of heels, and thanks to you I got some!" She chirped instead, and Gaara rolled his eyes.

"Didn't I tell you last night? Speak to be normally, not like an airhead." He smiled, but Sakura could see the irritation hiding just beneath. Just like her, the politeness was all a façade. He seemed weirdly high strung, and hot or not, Sakura was getting sick of the attitude. Gaara stared hard at her for a long while until finally she gave in.

"Well it was either the heels or crack. I figured the heels would last longer," she deadpanned and was surprised when the redhead snorted with laughter. Unlike his tired smirks, a laugh made him seem much more approachable. She started to pull out her cell phone to quickly ask for his number, but Gaara startled her by placing a hand on her shoulder.

"You wanna get a coffee? My treat."

Sakura wanted to say no. She wanted to say she'd rather eat a pile of broken glass and shit it out slowly, but when she saw the strange, hopeful look in his eyes, instead gave a slow nod.

As soon as they entered the café, Sakura ordered the most expensive chilled coffee on the list along with two large slices of artisan chocolate cake. She hadn't planned to eat or drink any of it, but rather just revel in making him pay. Gaara paid no mind and opted for a glass of water with lemon.

"You working tonight?" He squeezed the lemon into his glass and began gulping it down. He honestly hadn't expected to run into someone like her on the high street, but needed something _mildly_ pretty to take his mind off the shit way his Sunday was going.

Gaara noticed the way she bristled suddenly, but then chewed her lip to force any sort of emotion down.

"It's actually my day off." Sakura pushed the cake slices around on her plate with a strained smile. She could only hope he'd get the hint.

"Oh, well I'm sorry to hassle you," he lied. In all honesty, he was rather enjoying the pained faces the pastel haired woman was making. He had to admit, she looked pretty cute in the daylight. Despite her hair being pulled back in an unflattering 'grandma bun,' the fact that she was wearing far less makeup made her face look fresh and young.

"It's no hassle at all, Gaara-sama." The edges of Sakura's smile twitched and she imagined punching him right in the other eye.

"Why do you keep doing that?" Gaara chuckled and reached over to grab her fork. When Sakura furrowed her brow, he speared a bit of her untouched cake.

"Doing what?" She could only barely restrain the snarl on her lips as Gaara chewed and swallowed the bite.

"Pretending like you're okay with everything when you're clearly not."

"I don't know what you mean." Sakura spoke through grit teeth. When she was younger she used to love when men took her out to eat and chatted her up, but as she grew older, she also grew wiser and more jaded to advances like his.

Even when she stopped waiting on clients and just cleaned up, her mood had never gotten better. You learned things about men when you were alone with them. When they were drunk and hanging on you. Terrible things. Hostessing was a job that frequently bled over from private to personal life, and it wasn't something she missed at all.

"Well it's your day off and you let me bully you into coming here and having this inane conversation." Gaara pulled at his shirt a little to unglue it from his chest, much to Sakura's dismay. "Yesterday you suckerpunched me because I called you a street tramp, and last night you headbutted me after I grabbed you. I know you're not this type of girl."

Sakura's cheeks burned bright red. He was toying with her, but she was determined not to take the bait.

"You're not very good at hiding when you're pissed." Gaara speared another bite of cake. "Your mouth kind of puckers up like you ate something sour, and you get these little creases in your forehead."

Sakura began chewing harder at her lip, so much so that Gaara worried she'd bite straight through. But when she remained silent, he tried again.

"I like when people are honest with me. Not many people are truly honest." He took another bite of the cake and found it delightful. Normally he didn't like sweet things, but for some reason the angrier the girl in front of him got, the more he was turned on. He would have eaten the whole dessert tray just to keep witnessing the delightful way her sharp green eyes narrowed, or how her cheeks puffed and pinkened to match her hair.

From the moment he'd started paying women any attention all, Gaara had a type. Young, sweet, demure. Bland enough to tolerate for a night or three and just the right amount of timid to keep from confronting him when he neglected to return their calls. He'd definitely met bitches before – ones with way too much money and time on their hands, but he couldn't shake the feeling that this woman was different. She was age appropriate, _for one_ , and filled with a boldness he found annoying, yet endearing.

Whenever his frustration and anxiety built up to a level Xanax couldn't solve, all Gaara wanted to do was ruin something completely. For a few weeks Hakuto had filled that space for him, but it was getting boring. She'd do anything if he asked and it was no longer a challenge.

This girl, this – _Hitomi_ , would be the perfect target of his rage. It might even be fun.

Sakura's lips started moving, but all he could think about was tying her up and stuffing her throat with—

"…the _worst_ kind of asshole," she scoffed. "The **truth** is you think you're special and edgy, but I've seen men like you a million times in the club. You don't know a goddamn thing about me. You're tiny, and I'm sure your dick is too!"

Gaara was immediately shocked back to reality by the sharp sound of her voice. When he focused, he saw the pink haired woman's cheeks were flushed and her eyes narrowed in disgust.

"And they're fucking Louboutins! _Lou-bou-tins_!" She snapped to finish. "You absolute cunt."

Gaara let her catch her breath and then watched the color flood back into her face. During the tirade, most of her hair had flopped out from the bun and the sexy rumpled look from the night before was back in full force.

"Do you ever feel like no matter what you do, you can never please anyone?" He put down the fork and leaned in over the table.

Sakura was caught off guard. She shrank back down in her seat and stared at him blankly. One moment the guy was smug and self-important, and the next he was trying on some insightful bullshit.

"What are you…are you serious?"

Gaara looked right into her eyes with the same calm, but teasing expression. "Ever since coming home it seems like everyone wants something different from me. It's aggravating."

Sakura frowned and began mashing at what was left of the chocolate cake on her plate. She didn't know where the conversation was supposed to be going or what he wanted her to say, but could sense things were getting really strange, really fast.

"I'm supposed to start going to therapy. My brother and sister seem to think I'm nuts."

The words made something in her jump, and Sakura snapped her gaze back up to the redhead. The pale blue-green of his eyes had turned dark and reminded her strongly of someone she'd spent years trying to forget.

"Do you think you _need_ therapy?" Sakura studied Gaara's reaction carefully, but he just shrugged.

"Well, I mean doesn't everyone?" He joked. Sakura had to bite her lips to keep from smiling. Gaara liked that.

"Can't argue with that." She finally took a bite of the cake mash and surprised herself by letting out a moan of delight. After living on a diet of mostly takeout and boxed lunches, the expensive chocolate cake was heaven. They probably even used real sugar!

"Want more?" Gaara smiled, delighted by the sound. "I can give you anything you like. Just ask."

Sakura just frowned and hid her face, shoveling the rest of the cake into her mouth. She knew well enough what he was implying and didn't even want to go there.

"So what's your advice?" he finally asked.

"Why do you even care what I think?" She spoke through a mouthful of cake.

"You won't lie to me. You don't like me enough for that."

Sakura had to admit he was right. People the closest to you were usually the least likely to give it to you straight. She struggled for a moment before slamming both hands down on the tabletop. A few other diners turned to look at them, darkly.

"Fuck everyone!" She said with conviction. "Live your own life and don't let anyone tell you what you have to do. If you _want_ to talk to someone, do it. But don't let people make you think you're crazy. You're an asshole, but you're not crazy."

Gaara stared at her in surprise. He'd never been out with a girl so brash before. She was almost like a female Kiba.

"I thought you'd say something like that." He pulled out his wallet and thumbed through a few bills before folding them over and sliding the wad across the table. "Thanks."

Gaara started to get up and Sakura stared blankly at the cash. It seemed to be about the same amount as the night before, but she couldn't understand. Was he a masochist? Did he get off on women who belittled him?

' _Does it matter?'_ She picked up the bills as Gaara shrugged on his jacket.

"W-wait!" Sakura jumped up and rooted through her purse for her cell phone. "Your number… can I have it?"

Gaara was surprised by her boldness at first, but then realized exactly what she was doing. She most likely had to make a quota at work, and by having him come to the club on her beck and call she'd no doubt be making extra on top of her usual salary.

He pulled out his phone but paused in exchanging it with hers.

"If I give you my number, what do I get in return?"

Sakura imagined that if he had brows, they would have gone up in a lewd fashion. She screwed up her face in disgust. "I'm not a prostitute."

"Of course not." Gaara looked serious, but inside felt like rolling his eyes. Of course they all had to say something like that, but from what he'd heard, extracurriculars with hostesses certainly weren't exactly unheard of.

"Then what do you want from me?" She put both hands on her hips.

Gaara tapped his phone against his chin for a moment and then smirked as if he had a dirty secret. "I'll let you know."

"Now wait a second - what's that supposed to mean?" She tugged back her phone the moment the redhead reached for it.

"It means that whenever you want me to come in and buy a bottle or three, text me and I'll do it. As long as when I text you something, you agree to do it right away, too."

Sakura pondered over the offer for a moment. If he kept giving her tips like that on top of coming to the club, she could buy anything she wanted. Maybe even quit completely and finally move into a nicer place away from the city.

"Only if it's nothing sexual," she finally replied.

Gaara gave a barely perceptible nod, but Sakura stepped closer so that she was almost trodding on his toes. "I mean it! No sexy selfies or snaptchats or videos for you to jerk your tiny dick to."

"It's not-" Gaara stopped himself at the last minute from taking the bait. "You really think highly of yourself, don't you?" He patted her on the head, but really felt like grabbing her by the throat.

Sakura poked her tongue out with a grin– she had to admit, she was beginning to like riling him up. "Just promise I won't have to send you that kind of stuff and I'll give you my phone."

"I promise." Gaara gave her an innocent smile, and when she was satisfied, Sakura extended her hand.

Before she could start up another rant, Gaara snatched the rather 90s looking candybar-style phone away.

"Jesus - how old are you again?" He chuckled as he struggled to type his number in on the tiny fingerpad.

"Shut up!" Blushing, Sakura grabbed it away as he finished and quickly entered her number into his smartphone. She tossed it back to Gaara, hoping he'd drop it, but he caught it effortlessly and then dialed the number. He was satisfied when he heard it ring from her purse.

"Hitomi…" He ruffled her hair with one hand. "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

* * *

*Compensated dating where primarily school aged girls go out with older men for money or luxury gifts in exchange for companionship or sexual favors.

*Telephone clubs or Telekura are telephone based dating services in Japan where a male client would pay a fee to enter a booth with a phone. The phone would then ring with calls from women or girls willing to go on a date.

AN: Yeah, so this story is weird and Gaara may be a bit OOC, but I thought it would be fun to write an AU story where the pain and struggle that Gaara experiences as kid in _Naruto_ manifests in a really different way. In this case, mental illness. And as usual Sakura is just complicated, God love her. All that said, thank you so much for the positive reviews and comments so far! Like LIW, this one will be a bit of a rollercoaster. I do love my drama. And my sexual tension. … ;)


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